


Stronger than a Butterbeer

by Jaxon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Hogwarts, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 12:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10786743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaxon/pseuds/Jaxon
Summary: Following the Battle of Hogwarts, Horace Slughorn clears out Headmaster Snape's Office.Minerva couldn't.





	Stronger than a Butterbeer

Horace Slughorn cleared the Headmaster’s office.  

Minerva couldn’t.

She cast a set of complicated runes upon the door, and prepared her story.  “Ministry Regulations,” she would say.  But nobody asked.

His performance had been too convincing for his possessions to be of interest to others.  Each day, the castle machinated to propel her towards the room.  Each day, she turned away.  Finally, hours before the new term started, she’d summoned Horace.

She’d already cleared so much; so many bricks, so many bodies - and packing up the contents of Severus Snape’s office, knowing that there was no next of kin to collect his items…

Minerva couldn’t.

Horace worked quickly.  Minerva stood in the doorway and watched, grateful that he did not pass comment. There was barely a trace of the man – not a trinket, not a scrap of paper, not even a photograph.  Horace packed a single suitcase, and left it open on the large wooden desk.

As he departed, he squeezed her hand, and as his footsteps descended, she replaced the runes upon the entrance.  Hesitantly, she approached the case, and gently prodded the contents with her wand.  There was nothing except black cloth.  Black socks.  Black pants.  And a spare set of voluminous robes.

Minerva sank heavily into the plush seat behind the desk.  She stared at the case, incredulous at its sparse offering, and thumped the lid down. The clasp creaked in protest as it slammed shut, and with a furious flick of her wand, the case flew to the far side of the room, colliding against a cabinet with a hollow thud.

Her lips pressed into a grimace, and gripping her wand tightly, she stood.  She moved cautiously across the room.  Horace had pulled open every cupboard, tugged open every drawer. She’d watched him.  But this cabinet, with its ornate carvings at the top, and its seemingly solid bottom?  There was nothing to open.  She rapped it sharply, and again, the echo rang clear.

She wouldn’t admit to anyone how long it took, but finally, a small golden handle appeared.  With a gentle twist, a newly formed door swung open.  The illumination from her wand bathed the cupboard in light, and she spied the solitary bottle, the distinctive label glinting.

It wasn’t Severus’.

It was Albus’.

She crouched, rolling the bottle backwards and forwards between her warm hands, the amber liquid lapping gently against its glass confines.  Firewhiskey may not have been her tipple of choice, but she recognised this outrageously limited run – rumour had it that only two bottles remained; one was in the Malfoy family cellar, whilst this gift from Fudge had sat – unopened – on Dumbledore’s desk for as long as she could remember.

It was three quarters empty.

She couldn’t recall Severus drinking anything stronger than a Butterbeer.  He attended events at the staffroom under duress, and flatly refused to partake in staff outings to Hogsmeade.  The Severus she knew would never have indulged in hard liquor, but then, the Severus she knew had not been the Headmaster.

What a calibre he had started with.

The new Headmistress drew in a breath, and then summoned a glass.  She was in good company.  She unscrewed the bottle, and started to pour.

Then she saw it.

Her spectacles slid down her nose as she peered through the glass, and sure enough, on the _inside_ of the label – that wily old goat - there was an unmistakable inscription; familiar cursive handwriting taunting her from beyond the grave.

Minerva thumped the bottle on the desk and took a long, disapproving breath.  She could almost feel the intensity of his gaze on the back of her neck.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

“I could hardly leave him a heartfelt letter on his pillow, could I?”

“But on the inside of the bottle, Albus?”

“I knew…”  Dumbledore briefly closed his painted eyes.  “I knew if he opened that bottle, he was searching for a reminder of his duty.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from Tumblr (truncated): Could you fic McGonagall feeling annoyed or upset after the battle when she finds out that Dumbledore kept the truth from her? What if [Severus] reached a limit and gave up?


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